


The Naked Time

by WorldsUnreal



Series: The Great Fanfictionization of the Grandest Love Story in the Universe [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Canon Extension, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode: s01e06 The Naked Time, Love, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Unresolved Emotional Tension, to be continued in the rest of the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6493651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorldsUnreal/pseuds/WorldsUnreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the ordeal had cost Spock, and what it took to make him realize it.  </p><p>(Basically a fanfictionization of the episode The Naked Time)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plaidshirtjimkirk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/gifts).



“Nurse? Where is Doctor McCoy?” 

The ship is in a state of chaos, the few unaffected crewmembers were unable to fully compensate the loss in efficiency, and in 12 minutes and 49 seconds the ship will inevitably enter the planet’s atmosphere. Through all this Nurse Chapel is ignoring her duties and is inspecting her reflection in a mirror for the duration of 1.73 minutes. Most illogical.

My question rouses her and she turns to look at me, “He’s gone to the lab.”

Suppressing what would be a very human reaction of annoyance, I make my way to the communicator to hail the laboratory. The nurse follows me dully.

“Lab. Lab, respond please.” The lack of response causes a shadow of worry somewhere within me, but I do not acknowledge it and it quickly passes. “Spock here. Lab!”

The Captain has ordered me to find the Doctor and ask for a status report, and even though logic dictates that there is only a probability of 0.00045 that there is any news to report, regulations take precedent and I decide to head to the laboratory and ask for the required information myself. It wouldn’t do to disobey the Captain, even when this new Captain has 20% lower efficiency than Captain Pike did and does not seem to show the same amount of respect towards my heritage. It is not logical to mock one for their heritage, or to repeatedly point it out in the most inappropriate of times, or-

I stopped myself. These thoughts are equally illogical and inappropriately timed as the Captain’s mockery.

“Mister Spock.” The nurse calls out.

Distracted, I had not noticed her advancing on me and as I turn around her proximity alarms me, “What is it, nurse-” My voice falters as I feel her warm hand upon mine. I reflexively pull back, but again she reaches out to touch my hand, and this time she holds onto it.

“Mister Spock,”

The caress is more than unwelcome, it is far too intimate for any Vulcan to be comfortable with. Not to mention her unshielded mind is projecting raw, overwhelming emotions so strongly through the physical contact it is hard for me to block out. Once again, I try to pull back but now she has both her hands on my hand. The assault of emotions is impairing my judgment by 35 no- by 36%. Warmth through the contact. I should not- _do_ _not_ lower my mental shields to these feelings. Gentleness. Sympathy. Affection.

“The men from Vulcan treat their women strangely.”

Affection. I can feel her affection. _For me_. It is… startling. Irregular. And yet, it is there. Nurse Chapel feels _affection_ for me. I do not understand.

“At least, people say that, but you’re part human too. I know you don’t, you couldn’t, hurt me, would you?”

But I am not listening to her anymore. I hear a question at the end of something the nurse said, but it is does not fully register within my mind. I- Why is it- Nurse Chapel is happy. I feel joy through our contact. Why is it so difficult to stop her feelings from _invading my mind_? Why are my mental shields dropping, crumbling away- It’s-

I should stop this. I pull away. My mind- my mind is-

Why are these emotions still flooding my senses? The contact is severed. I shouldn’t feel these emotions. And why are they so- so overwhelming? Anger. Regret. Guilt.

“I’m in love with you Mr. Spock.”

Love. I am feeling love. These feelings, they are not the nurse’s- they are _mine_. I must be affected by the madness. It must have lowered all my inhibitions, destroyed my control.

The nurse continues talking, but I do not –cannot hear her anymore over the way my heart beats erratically in my side. I have never felt such _warmness_ before. Such illogical preoccupation to _please_ and to desire proximity from another. Such capacity for-

I am on the verge of a breakdown. It would be demeaning to-

“Nurse, you should-”

She reaches for my hand again. It is of no effect by now, years of mental training is reduced to chaos and retribution. My own mind is mocking me for these feelings I have. Mockery… _Spock, nice to meet you, I am Captain James T. Kirk._ Stop it.

“I am in control of my emotions.”

The nurse is touching my face now, ignorantly brushing over my meld points. Stop it. She can’t induce a mind meld, but she can- She can mock me if ever she knows what I feel. Why does everyone tease me so? _Certain you don’t know what irritation is, Mr. Spock?_

“-I love you.” I feel the nurse kiss the knuckles on the back of my hand. And through the haze of my mind I see my mother doing the exact same thing through the golden sunlight of my childhood memories.

_“Mother? Why did you marry father?”_

_“Well, because I loved him Spock. Should there be any other reason?”_

_"Love is illogical”_

“I’m sorry.” I’m sorry I ever said that Mother. It is not illogical and yet it is.

_"You will find somebody for yourself one day, Spock. And you will understand.”_

_"You are assuming. That is also illogical.”_

_“I am not assuming, Spock. I am your mother, I know things.”_

You’re right Mother. Why must you be right? How _could_ you be right?

“I am sorry.”

In the distant frays of my senses I hear another female voice- Uhura, talking through the comm.

“Captain is en route to Engineering, Mister Spock. Can you take the br…“

The Captain. En route to engineering. The words conjure up the mental image of Captain Kirk walking, with his long, pacing strides. The way he does when he is committed to do something, when he knows he needs to keep his wits about him when everybody else has lost theirs.

I escape. Out of sickbay, along the corridors, anywhere- I have duties to carry out. I need to go to the bridge, there is a ship that needs to be brought out of danger. It is my duty, I am the First Officer- First officer of the starship Enterprise. I am-

_“Spock! I heard the news! I’m so proud of you, baby.”_

_“Mother, there is nothing extraordinary about the progress of my career. I have been an officer on the_ Enterprise _for eleven years, two months and nine days. It is only logical that Starfleet would appoint me as First Officer.”_

_“It will still be a whole new experience in your life, wouldn’t it Spock?”_

_“Explain.”_

_“Well, Captain Pike is Fleet Captain now. I heard you’ll be serving under a very young and quite charismatic new Captain.”_

_“Captain Kirk’s fleet records show a high level of proficiency.”_

_“I’m sure they do. Spock, you know if ever you feel confused or lost or just when you need somebody to talk to- and I know what you’ll say to this- but I want you to know I’ll always be here.”_

_“I find that turn of events unlikely. I am a Starfleet officer, professional conduct is expected at all times”_

_“Spock, you’re part human too. You may hide what is inside you from everybody else, but I know that sometimes all you need is… a friend.”_

“I am a Starfleet officer.”

Mother? You are right. I am confused.

I enter an empty conference room without fully understanding why or what for. And to my dismay I find that I no longer care to. I need to meditate- I need to regain my balance- I need-

No, mother, I do _not_ need a _friend_. 

“I am in control of my emotions.” I breathe, but it comes out ragged. “Control of my emotions.”

“I am an officer.” I feel sobs racking through my body, “An officer-” It’s beyond my control now. All those years of pain-staking meditation, all those long nights spent learning the disciplines, all reduced to nothing.

_“Father, I will be leaving in 3.7 hours.”_

_"I see you have not changed your mind about your decision.”_

_"No.”_

_"Your logic is questionable, you could have achieved much more at the Vulcan Science Academy.”_

_"That is irrelevant, I did not base my decision on potential future prestige.”_

_"What other logical set of reasoning is there to base a career on? You lack control of your emotions, Spock.”_

I’m not Vulcan. I’ve never been Vulcan. Mother knows this. Mother has known all this time. And all I have ever done was reject her human heritage. My efforts are nothing but a spurious veneer of control- just because I needed to prove a point. Just because I cannot give in to the pandemonium inside. It was logical, but unfair. My choices have caused my mother misery.

Why did I choose my father’s heritage and reject my mother’s? Was it logical?

I probe through the cruel, stinging heathaze of my mind in search of the remnants of the parental bond I once shared with my mother and father. It is all but gone now.

_“I am Captain James T. Kirk, and I will be your Captain for the duration of this mission. As Starfleet officers I expect nothing less and nothing more than for you to carry out your duty.”_

“My duty-” Is to you, Captain. _No._

“My duty is-” _To yourself, Spock. Take care of yourself, baby, we lov-_

No.

“My duty is to-“ Love you-

No. _No. NO._

It’s too late. I have given up- _sacrificed_ that part of me. It’s too late. My life is that of logic. I do not understand emotions, I can _not_.

_"Spock! Sarah’s mother told me you made her cry.”_

_“I did not ‘make her cry’, mother. Her distress was entirely her own, I did not compel her to feel that way.”_

_“She is human, Spock. Although you have no control over how she feels, most of the time neither does she. She feels unhappy when somebody has acted unkind or maybe with a little less understanding than she would’ve liked. She did not choose to be unhappy, Spock.”_

_“I… do not comprehend.”_

_“Apologize. She will appreciate it. And so will I.”_

_"It is too late for that, mother. She is no longer in distress.”_

_"Oh Spock, it is never too late.”_

“Too late,” to be human- “I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it so far! We can all guess the next part promises some good juicy bits (because Kirk will be in it!) ;).  
> I intent to make this part of a series, where I will fanfictionize some other episodes. If you have any ideas as to which episode I should write, please post it in the comments!  
> Anyway, thank you all for reading! <3


	2. Chapter 2

“Where have you been? What happened?” And suddenly he is right there. Standing over me, shining golden. Captain Kirk. My captain.

I feel his concern for me before ever I see it in his eyes. He does not even try to conceal it, does not need to. And I am reminded- transported to the hazy years of my childhood. To all the times mother kneeled down to face me, concern shining in her eyes- very much the same way the Captain’s are now. I cannot decide which is worse.

“My mother.” I breathe, “I could never tell her I loved her.” I am not thinking logically. For a brief moment, I had hoped that the Captain would… understand. That if this should be our final few minutes, he would at least know I am, and had always been, capable of love.

“We’ve got four minutes, maybe five.”

Then understand, Captain, that I have been a terrible son to my mother, “An Earth woman, living on a planet where love, emotion, is bad taste.”

My mother believes I am heartless- that I care not a single shred for her.

I feel hands on my arms, hoisting me up roughly. The captain’s frown has transformed from concern into incredulous impatience. This small gesture- it… _fascinates_ me. It was _I_ who caused these emotions in the Captain. As if I was being… _illogical_. As if he _knows_ that I _can_ be anything besides my father’s son, he-

The new proximity between the Captain’s and my face makes my head _reel_. His hands are warm, I can feel them even through my uniform.

I stare at the bronze skin, so different from my own. I imagine red iron-based blood flowing through thin veins just below that skin. His face is flushed with the same bright red tinge of human blood. My head is spinning, and I feel something else- something entirely new. I-

The Captain shakes me. His voice, raised and angry, dispels the delirium in my mind.

“I respected my father,” I say, hoping he will understand, “our customs. I was ashamed of my Earth bloo-”

The strike to my cheek surprises me. It smarts, but for that one fraction of a moment the Captain’s palm was on my cheek I was- I felt-

I felt your mind, Jim.

You… think of me as… your _friend_.

“Jim” I breathe, nearly choking on the words, “when I feel friendship for you, I’m ashamed.”

And something in me, it breaks. The last veneer of control. The last protective wall in my mind, placed there ever since I can remember- _gone_. Finally, I realize- I recognize what I’m feeling. I realize with painful clarity everything I have sacrificed to be my father’s son.

“You’ve got to hear me!” The Captain strikes me again, and I reach out to stop the next strike. But-

His fingers are cool against mine. I can- I can feel the softness of his palm as my hand slides into his.

_"Spock, you’re part human too. You may hide what is inside you from everybody else, but I know that sometimes all you need is… a friend.”_

I breathe in, raggedly. Suddenly calmer than I have been in the past few minutes- I can’t be sure how long. And for the first time, the Captain’s words become coherent.

“We need a formula!” He roars, anger coloring his skin. I try to slide my hand out of his, before- before I can no longer-

But the Captain holds onto my hand and shakes it in his rage, “We’ve got to risk implosion!”

It’s too late- I can no longer shield my mind from his. The contact- a torrent of emotions flood me. Everything. I feel everything the Captain is feeling. Every thought he has, it brushes against me. Like quick fleeting dreams I can only see the shadows of. Everything. I feel his anger. His desperation.

The Ship. She’s dying. The crew will go down with her. He must save the crew. He must save his ship. I am her Captain. Captain Kirk. I won’t lose my ship. I need Spock. _Spock._

 _I’m_ Spock of Vulcan.

I manage to dislodge my hand from the Captain’s grip. Anymore and I would be _invading_ his mind- anymore and I would-

“It’s never been done.” I say- almost shout. The Captain’s anger has settled deep within me, and now- all the years of torment- The cruelness of my Vulcan playmates. The animosity of my human peers. The _ignorance_ of the Vulcans, the _arrogance_ of humans-

“Understand, Jim,” I plead once more, “I’ve spent a whole lifetime learning to hide my feelings.”

Please do not mock me anymore. Do not _tempt_ me any longer. I have chosen, and I have been tormented enough for it.

The Captain strikes me across the face, and before I know it, I feel my own fist connect with his cheekbone. I watch, helpless, as my own arm finishes the rest of the movement and as the Captain- _Jim_ \- is flung back over the desk. He lands on the floor with a thud. Jim, who thought _me_ as his _friend._

_“Emotions, children, is the source of all the wars our race have endured and all the pointless suffering. It is the absence of logic and the triumph of chaos that is the root of all bad that has happened in our past.”_

_“T’Pau, mother has spoken of the human emotion called ‘love’. She describes it as the emotion to give purpose to life.”_

_“Love is the most dangerous of all emotions, because it is based on selfish desire. Its purpose is short-lived and will quickly descend into violence, like all other emotions.”_

They are right, Father is right. I have sacrificed nothing. What have I just allowed myself to do. It is the logical way. The Vulcan way. I am Spock of Vulcan. I am in control of-

Jim looks up, and in that glance I recognize… kindness.

Jim, how do you still look at me and see a friend? I have hurt you.

“We’ve got to risk implosion. It’s our only chance.”

The odds of success are next to zero. I’ve wasted so much time already.

 “It’s never been done.”

There is an escape pod, I can command it by remote from the ship while you escape, Captain. It is my duty-

“Don’t tell me that again, Science Officer! It’s a theory, it’s possible. We may go up into the biggest ball of fire since the last sun in these parts exploded, but we've got to take that one in ten thousand chance!”

Captain, there is still time for you to save yourself-

“Bridge to Captain.” Uhura’s voice through the comm, “Engineer asked, did you find-”

The Captain’s face turns dark, “Yes, I found Mister Spock! I'm talking to Mister Spock, do you understand?” He is panting brokenly.

“Yes, sir. Three and a half minutes left, Captain.” Uhura’s voice is almost impossibly calm compared to the state the Captain is now in. Sweat is beading on his forehead, his eyes are dilated and- and deranged.

I have never seen him in such a state. Would never even have imagined it possible for the 4 months I’ve known Captain Kirk. I- he always mocked me so. Always so full of confidence, assurance. He _is_ the Captain after all, but-

“I've got it! The disease.”  He looks at me as if for help. I just stare back, helpless, paralyzed.

“Love.” The Captain says, almost to himself, eyes looking miles away, “You're better off without it, and I'm better off without mine.”

The Captain is usually always so proud to be what- _who_ he is. Always so contented to be where he is. I’ve never thought- never even crossed my mind that he might be as unhappy as I am.

“This vessel, I give, she takes. She won't permit me my life. I've got to live hers.”

And only now do I begin to perceive the Captain’s desperation. The ship must be saved.

“Jim,” I breathe. It’s far-fetched, it’s illogical. But I will try. It’s my duty to you, Jim.

“I have a beautiful yeoman. Have you noticed her, Mister Spock?” The Captain continues.

 I have never noticed her, I am Vulcan. And yet at this very moment I feel a very… _human_ emotion. There is a sickening emptiness in me that replaces whatever madness had possessed me few minutes past. An emptiness and a heaviness. I ache at the longing in my Captain’s eyes.

_“Sarek! You cannot make Spock attend the ceremony! He’s too young.”_

_“My wife, it is the Vulcan way. Spock will learn of our customs and our way of logic. It is for his good.”_

_“He’s just two years old, he doesn’t understand what this means.”_

_“I was the same age when I attended my first ceremony. It is the way it should be. Any older and he will have difficulty following the disciplines.”_

_“But perhaps he does not want to, Sarek!”_

_“I see. Then perhaps we can ask him come morning.”_

I remember the way my mother’s eyes shone in the dim of sunrise. _Yes, father, I want to be like you. I will attend the ceremony._ And I remember that at the same time, inexplicably, mother looked… _proud._

“You're allowed to notice her.” The Captain’s voice grows soft.

My mother, she sacrificed her _son_. Her _heritage_.

“The Captain's not permitted.”

I can do the same.

“Jim,” I say again, and the words are bitter and painful as I say them. But I shall do this, I shall do this for you. “there is an intermix formula.”

“Now I know why it's called ‘she’.”

“It's never been tested. It's a theoretical relationship between time and antimatter.”

So you can, at least, be happy with her.

“Flesh- woman to touch, to hold. A beach to walk on. A few days, no braid on my shoulder.”

It is true, I can never be the companion the Captain wants- and deserves. It is too late for that. But the images the Captain conjures up, they still stir in me something cruel.

“Captain.”

I barely perceive Commander Scott enter the room through the thrumming in my head. His presence however, allows me to collect some manner of control over the wreck in my mind. I can- _must_ save the ship. Along with the yeoman aboard it who captured the Captain’s affection.

“Stand by to intermix. I’ll call the formulae in from the bridge.”

“Entering upper stratosphere, Captain.” Uhura announces through the comm, “Skin temperature now twenty one hundred seventy degrees.”

“I've got to hang on.” The Captain says, and I find myself hanging on _his_ every word, “Tell them. Clear the corridors, the turbo lift. Hurry.”

With one last glance to the Captain, I leave. To perform my duty.

For you, Jim.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-watch the scene and tell me that it ISN'T absolute anguish on Spock's face when Jim professed his love for Rand! I dare you!!!!


	3. Epilogue

The ship is out of danger and thanks to the time-warp we have successfully prevented the scientific party on Psi 2000 from a pointless demise. No members of our crew have been seriously injured, the worst being a young engineer who has managed to paint himself with a highly irritant toxin. Doctor McCoy had fortunately treated him promptly enough for him to merely suffer from some skin lesions.

I have just concluded my report of the incident and I am on my way to the Captain’s quarters to submit it. My walk there was uneventful, but I must admit that I am not looking forward to our meeting. Four times during my walk I have thought of eschewing visiting his quarters. Four times I ignored my impulses and kept walking.

The memory of me striking the Captain rouses an unwelcome stir within me. I supress it. Starfleet regulations dictate that the Captain must report me. However, he did not. Did not even mention my behaviour again to me or to any other crewmember I am aware of.

I knock at the Captain’s door.

“Come.”

The Captain is sitting at his desk, drinking a glass of what evidently is brandy. He smiles as soon as the door fully slides open.

“Sit down, Mr. Spock,” He says and gestures at the seat in front of him.

I distantly take note that the temperature in the room is 8.31 degrees below that which I would prefer, but the Captain’s gaze distracts my ability to perceive my surroundings by 5%. I take the seat.

“I have brought the report, Captain.”

“Excellent! Impeccable as always undoubtedly?”

“I always strive to make my reports as reliable and accurate as I can.”

The Captain smiles.

“Are you alright, Spock?”

“Yes, Captain. The Doctor has altered the serum for my Vulcan physiology, I am no longer under the influence of the complex molecules present in the contaminated water.”

“I see,” The Captain nods, looking down at the report I have handed him, “good to hear.”

“Captain,” I say, before I overstay the excuse the submission of my report gave me to be in his quarters, “you have not reported me to Starfleet command for striking you.”

And, beyond all reason, Captain Kirk starts laughing.

“Spock!” He says, “You cannot expect me to report you. You were affected by that disease. We all contracted it, it was beyond your control. Besides, I hit you too. Multiple times, if I remember correctly.”

“It was a necessary action, I was not performing my duty.”

“For which I haven’t thanked you yet. You saved the ship and the crew aboard it.” And at this, I am reminded of the reasoning that went through my mind as I decided to risk implosion. I have not recovered from the damage the ordeal has caused in my mind. I remember the events like a fevered lucid dream, but at the same time as clearly as if I had never been influenced by the madness at all. It will take approximately 49.6 hours of meditation to restructure my mental shields. But some things that transpired can never be-

“Spock, _are_ you alright?”

I look up. The Captain’s eyes are shining the same way as when he rushed into that conference hall I found myself in. Their scrutiny makes me uncomfortable, but I do not show it.

“Yes, Captain-”

“Jim.” He interrupts. His eyes soften as I stare back at him, “You finally called me Jim back there.”

“I... apologize for my lapse.”

“No, Spock.” He’s smiling at me, “I told you, you can call me Jim when we’re not on duty. I’d like that.”

 _I would prefer to maintain professional conduct_ \- would be the appropriate response, instead, illogically, I say:

“Yes, Jim.”

And just like that, the fragile barrier between frenzied memories and reality fade into the warm, golden smile of my Captain.

* * *

 

_“Mother, is what you have told me untrue? T’Pau has said that love should always result in violence and suffering.”_

_“Oh, poor child. Do not worry yourself, baby. That is not always true.”_

_"But love is an emotion, and on Earth I myself have witnessed the violence done by humans due to their inability to supress it. And as the priests say: all emotions result in suffering.”_

_“Sometimes, it does, Spock. And when it does we are all made a little sadder for it. But some of the other things love push us to do- yes, Spock, the illogical crazy things we do for love. Those things are what makes life all the richer, and no amount of logic or science can ever quantify it. You will see one day, and you will remember that you have made my life better than it has ever been before.”_

_"But I am not aware of expressing to you any 'love'.”_

_"Oh Spock, being loved is a great thing, and everyone deserves to be. But to love is what gives your life its meaning and joy. Now go to sleep, Spock, and dream of whatever makes you happy. I love you.”_

That I night, I remember, I dreamt of exploring the stars on a starship. And I was Science Officer on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry (not) for your hearts. But do not fear! This story is not finished. I intend to write similar episode related fics for more episodes throughout the series all the way to the end :D.  
> I've planted some foreshadowing here and there in this one, so hope you'll hang on for the coming fics.  
> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
